2 dreams

2 dreams last night:

1-
i’m at the office at my desk. it is dark outside, stormy even. figures moving past the black windows. i realize the door isnt locked. ding ding, the bell of the door opening. a woman coming in, older, elder, she has a painting with her. clearly needs help, has a question. but i’m tired, and its night and we’re closed. “oh we’re closed ma’am” i tried to get to the door closed. i have to tell her to come back tomorrow. i’m the only one in the office, i’m not dressed or myself. i am nice and she needs my help but i need to turn her away.

2-
party at the trailer, and everyone is playing games. i want to play cards against humanity, but can’t find the box - i found the small black box, an add-on pack, but not the big white box. missing missing missing, can’t find it. people move to the bedroom and all pile on the bed in a circle. don’t they see this is a private space? that’s ok, they’re all people i love. jon is in the circle chatting, and i am running around cleaning up cups and then the back door - there is a knock. i am only in underwear and a button up shirt. my friends, we are all half-naked, because its summer and hot and no one wants to wear clothes. there is a peephole in my door, so i look, and its a lady. someone from the neighborhood association. “one moment!” i yell. i clear up detritus, and put on a bra and pants. my shirt is barely over my head when she opens the door. i use my body to slam it shut. in my dream i am skinnier with male parts and breasts, as always. i tell her i am not dressed, i can tell she is flustered. i open the door, and hope she doesn’t notice the smells of a party. she comes in cheerily to our home, to just do a look-through, make sure everything is up to code. i explain this isn’t the best time, we are having a party (in mid-day?). Of course she tells me she’s surprised it isn’t messier, and is overall impressed by the fact that we do dishes and have furniture (even if it is chewed up by our dog). mostly i am worried we will get in trouble. paranoid. i want her to leave. won’t she leave? why did she come thru the back door? why does she look like every committee member ever, and yet like no one? she’s not my landlady, just someone who tattletales to my landlady. i don’t even know why she’s here. who even does inspections? i live here, and i am not renting this place, just the land. and yet- she is looking at every mis-matched tile and old paint swatch pinned to the walls, wondering why we don’t keep up better. am i stoned? or is she looking at me funny? i want her to leave, and she goes in the bedroom where my friends are. they pour her a drink and she sits on my unkempt bed. i feel sick, and as i am about to throw up, the dog barks.

Tags: dreams

Tonight remember the miracles that sustained our ancestors in those days.
Tonight remember for the beginning is always
tonight remember benign thoughts of complacency
tonight remember you, who has the power to love
tonight remember the love which has the power to transform
you think its just paint on a leash
you think its just waiting for a change
you think its just simple and ignorant
you think you can’t change because power is external
proof of what is to go to a high standard
proof of what power is will transform the

Surprised we have societal and cultural ideas about art

MAPPING CHANGE: Artists Look at 20 Years of MAPS

Organized by the Urban Land Institute of Oklahoma, this project, my biggest-to-date solo curatorial project in Oklahoma, explores the impact of the voter-funded Metropolitan Area Projects and the impact of change in culture and environment through art.

I chose 6 artists: Tommy Ball, Grace Grothaus, Richard McKown, Hugh Meade, Todd Stewart and Kristen Vails. Each took a different approach towards MAPS, and the produced work varied from paintings and sculptures to interactive installations.

I am so grateful I got to do this project, and work with such amazing artists. The opening was amazing; Mayor Cornett came and talked about the importance of artists. It was a great great experience.

This project forced me to be independent, and I quickly learned problem solving skills with an exhibition. I wrote my first press release, created my first press-ready art work, wrote a curator statement, hung and lit a show and acted as liaison for an organization and artists. It was a great experience, and I’m looking forward to the debut of my next curatorial project Threshold: a promised land, curated with heather ahtone in coordination with the Norman Arts Council’s StART Program, April 11.

MAPPING CHANGE is up at Individual Artists of Oklahoma’s Project Gallery in OKC until March 15th. 

in our household, the buttocks is referred to as a “momo” in honor of the corgi momo, as its a hot topic of conversation (how could it not be?) as I’vye been in and out of the hopsital and doctors offices for problems with my momo (what was first thought to be a broken tailbone was a massive staph infection that had me sick), we’ve decided, mo’ momo, mo’ problems. here’s some georgie momo as a consolation

Finished my series “pick your poison”: “act”, “habit”, “best”, and “cope”. Four works in an edition of 3. Letterpress and Screenprint on found objects. 2014

Finished my series “pick your poison”: “act”, “habit”, “best”, and “cope”. Four works in an edition of 3. Letterpress and Screenprint on found objects. 2014

Pick Your Poison - print series in progress

Pick Your Poison is my new print series, a combination of serigraph prints with letterpress text discussing coping mechanisms in a humorous manner.

Here is the process: from sketchbook, to matrices, to prints in their current state.

Once finished the prints will be affixed to glass bottles, like labels for different beverages.

i have a muse. am I selfish? do I hoard her? yes, I do.

but i am a jealous lover, (like old testament god.) but I try to treat her right and share our energy.

its hard to admit your lover and partner impacts your creative process.

sure, lovers give inspiration, and have been the inspiration for many great works of art.

but what about the deficit to your creative practice that comes with the new routine, schedule and time commitment that comes with a dedicated relationship?

J and I try to create space for ourselves, and for our creativity. Sometimes we act as creative partners, with critiques and creative sessions, but sometimes we have to split and become individuals. Often this leads us to separate studios, or even dwelling spaces. Myself to a school’s empty campus, J to the bustle of a coffee shop.

In some lights, our shared creativity is one of the tightest bonds in our relationship, and one of the strongest ropes in our own individual lives.

I feel very lucky to have a partner that encourages me to be creative, and to whom I can give my encouragement.

Here are some photos of Jon that I have taken in the height of a creative rush. He is a great muse, and a great model. maybe these photos will end up in my art somehow.

depression mantra

only incite good thoughts

you must speak only good words

bury the negative and sadness

it is a challenge it is a challenge it is a challenge

forget the pain following grief

remove the knife of sorrow

let yourself bleed empathy

be kind be kind be kind

say not the words you wish you could

hurt not those who love you most

try not to find comfort in destructive actions

and do not destroy yourself

false coping false hoping false coping

don’t sleep with those who aim to crush you

don’t sex yourself because that’s your only talent

see more good in you like others do

no remorse no remorse no remorse

pretend you have it all, you do

pretend you’ll make one day, you will

pretend you can’t, you can’t

"it’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.”

shun the ones who would help you

forget there are those who love you

pretend you are all alone, hopeless

I’m afraid I’m afraid I’m afraid

lay down in your dreariness forever

sleep and return to the place that made you

find comfort in nothing and nothing

and nothing and nothing and nothing

do nothing do nothing do nothing

unbridled by the concepts of “good” and “bad”, no longer constrained by grades or success, the work that has come out of my studio in the past 6th months challenges what I think of as “acceptable” in quality, subject matter and execution. 
Sometimes I look at these drawings and installations and think they are the best things I have made in a while, sometimes I look at them and feel ashamed of their simplicity in thought. 
Sometimes they are clever. Sometimes they are trite.

"is there life after death." was made after my mother’s death. I cut my hair the day of her funeral, and have kept it in a bag since. The growths are all natural, though I poured peroxide in the bag in an attempt to sanitize it. death feeds life. I’m thinking of adding a letterpressed poem to be displayed with it.

This last one , made last night, really shows a clear new direction away from simply portraying the female form in relation to female issues. The “male” body is as much in relation to feminism and women’s rights as any other.